The Feather of Truth
by ZodiacStorm
Summary: They're no one special. Just the most intellectually gifted student at Hogwarts since Dumbledore, the most powerful legilimens in recorded history, a werewolf with an aptitude for brawling, and a communist revolutionary. But when cheating arises during the 2020 Tri-Wizard Tournament, it's these unlikely friends who must make it right. Even if it costs Hogwarts the Tri-Wizard cup.
1. Prologue - Welcome to Hogwarts

**Author's Note.**

**Happy Valentine's Day! I hope you're not alone this year like me. My love life is as dry and empty as the Sahara Desert. Hahaha! At least I can laugh about my loneliness. Don't be like me!**

**This is my first fanfic, so please be nice. I am looking to become a better writer, and I am open to constructive criticism, in fact, I'm looking for it. I want to be a better writer, but please no flames. They don't teach me anything.**

**Disclaimer: I definitely don't own Harry Potter. Last I checked, J. K. Rowling does.**

Faolin Wallace was eating dinner with his family when the woman that would upend Faolin's entire life arrived. Before that night, Faolin had been fairly regular, although he was extremely smart for an 11-year-old boy. He lived with his parents and his twin brother. They were a regular family in Belfast. Very little set them apart from other Irish families.

"And what did Mrs. Alonn say after that?" His mother asked as she reached across the table to grab more beans, nearly catching Faolin checking his text messages. He wasn't supposed to have his phone out during meals.

His twin brother, Cathal, shot Faolin a look, their identically vibrant green eyes met for only a second before Faolin looked away.

_He's guessed what I'm up to_. Faolin thought, subtly pocketing his phone_. He usually does_. Faolin always had to work extra hard to keep secrets or sneak around his brother. Cathal was just as smart as Faolin, maybe smarter. He was already skipping entire grades; even if he stopped skipping grades now, he would still graduate high school by 14.

"She said 'No, but Sam sure would like some with gravy and carrots!'" His father could barely finish the joke without laughing. The rest of the family exploded into laughter with him, except Faolin, who, having been on his phone, had missed most of the joke. He smiled and forced himself to laugh along with them, knowing perfectly well that no one would explain it to him.

The merriment finally died down as someone began to knock on the door. Faolin's mother got up to answer, still chuckling to herself. It was late, far too late for anyone with a sense of decency to be knocking on doors. They could at least use the doorbell.

"Who do you you reckon is knocking at our door this late at night?" Cathal leaned over to whisper in Faolin's ear.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Faolin was just working on that question when their mother returned, now accompanied by another woman who looked to be in her late forties, although this stranger moved with the same youthful energy and confidence of someone half her age.

"Hello," the stranger began. "My name is Evelyn Ramirez. I'm here to talk to you about your son, Faolin."

Evelyn had black hair that was just barely starting to show signs of aging, and deep blue eyes that were almost closer to indigo. Her skin was tanned and tough, but had very few wrinkles, and Faolin didn't miss how well-muscled her lean frame was. If Faolin had to guess, he'd say she was a veteran.

Strangest of all, however, were her clothes. Evelyn wore dark robes, along with a witch hat. She might've been dressed for Halloween, but it was the middle of July. She couldn't be that confused.

"What for?" Cathal asked, tilting his head as he did. "No one's done anything wrong here."

"Oh, I should hope not!" Evelyn sat down, although Faolin was pretty sure there hadn't been a chair there five seconds ago. "Are you Faolin Wallace?" Cathal shook his head.

"That would be me, actually." Faolin sat up, now distinctly aware that he was the point of discussion. She seems friendly enough, Faolin observed. Mrs. Ramirez handed him a sealed envelope, but he didn't look away, continuing to observe.

_She holds herself like she's ready for a fight, ready for anything. Based on that scar on her neck, she's seen a good amount of action. She's old but doesn't look any worse for it physically, so age just means experience. And she's got something in the inside pocket of her robes. _Faolin's mind kept collecting info, sorting it into neat piles in his head.

"Why are you here?" He asked.

Evelyn smiled. "I'm here because of you, Faolin."

"Me? What did I do?"

"Nothing yet. I'm here because you, Faolin, are a wizard."

Faolin blinked. "A wizard? Really? 'Cause last I checked, magic isn't real." Faolin forced himself to chuckle. His parents seemed perfectly happy to let him do the talking, as they often did.

"You don't think it's real. It's a belief we have worked very hard to cement in you muggles." Evelyn caught his look of confusion and corrected herself. "Muggle means a non-magical person."

Evelyn reached into her robes and pulled out a wand that was exactly a foot long, made of laurel wood, if Faolin wasn't mistaken. She waved it at the table and spoke.

"Wingardium Leviosa." The tip of the wand began to glow softly.

And the table began to move! It rose slowly into the air, without so much as spilling Faolin's Pepsi. He jumped up, looking for the trick, but there was none! The table was actually hovering.

Faolin turned to Mrs. Ramirez as she set the table back down. "And I could do that?" He asked excitedly. Faolin's mind was racing through possibilities that magic could open for him.

"And you need a wand to cast spells?" Faolin asked.

"Usually, yes."

"And how are wizards regulated? It seems like a big opportunity for exploitation if muggles don't know magic exists."

"There is a government for our kind, the Ministry of Magic keeps wizards and witches in check. Even so, we usually stay separate from muggles." Mrs. Ramirez returned her wand to her robes.

_She doesn't seem like she's lying. She has too many good answers, and no holes I can see._

"Oi, what about me?" Cathal asked. "Do I get to wave a wand and say funny words and make stuff fly?" There was a hungry gleam in his eyes that Faolin distinctly disliked.

"I'm afraid not, dear. You are a muggle through and through."

"Wait, why does he get to be a wizard then?" Cathal was almost yelling now. "He's my brother, what gives? What makes him different from me?"

"It has never been exactly clear why some muggle are born with magic. We don't know" Evelyn rose. "Mrs. Wallace, can you and your husband come with me? We have a lot to discuss."

"It seems we do." His father was the first to rise, clearing his throat. "We can talk on the porch." He walked out to the porch, stumbling once. After a moment's pause, His mother and Mrs. Ramirez followed.

Almost immediately after they left, Cathal got up, knocking his chair over as he did. Instead of picking it up, Faolin's brother stomped away to his room upstairs, grumbling all the way about Faolin always getting the better end of everything, which Faolin could hardly see as his fault.

_Jealousy is hardly a good color on him._ Faolin thought after his brother. _Ahh well, It can't be helped. He'll calm down by morning._ This last thought was juxtaposed by the sound of Cathal slamming his bedroom door closed.

His good mood slightly dampened, Faolin finally looked at the envelope Mrs. Ramirez had given him. He broke the wax seal and removed several pieces of paper. He unfolded the first one, which was written in green ink.

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmaster: Minerva McGonagall_

_Dear Faolin C. Wallace. _

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely, Evelyn Ramirez, Deputy Headmistress._

There were several other pieces of paper, presumably a list of supplies for school. He began to look through them, wondering where on earth he was to acquire half of these things. Wizards probably have their own way of doing things. Faolin was musing the existence of an entirely wizard-based store when his parents, along with Mrs. Ramirez, returned from the porch.

"Have you decided whether you want to attend Hogwarts?" She asked him. She looked over at Faolin's parents, who nodded slowly. Faolin grinned.

"I get to learn magic? Sign me up."

**[Page Break]**

Faolin made his first wizard friend on July 31, on the shopping trip to Diagon Alley with Mrs. Ramirez. He ran into the boy at the bookstore, Flourish and Blotts.

"Privyet, tovarisch, I'm Boris. " The boy said. Faolin smiled at him.

"Faolin." They shook hands. Boris was Russian in every sense of the word, from his accent to his ushanka hat. He had dyed blond hair and hazel eyes. He seemed pleasant enough, despite his tendency to talk about the superiority of communism.

Kieran, Faolin's cat, purred loudly, probably for attention. Faolin reached down to scratch behind the little black cat's ears.

"Hey, you don't know where I could find a wand, do you?" He asked Boris as they left the bookstore, squinting at the tiny print of his supply list. Boris pointed to a store down the block.

"Ollivanders. Best wandmaker in Western Europe. Although I don't know why we have to pay for such an essential product. You need a wand to cast magic. Why must we pay for one? Is it too much to ask for the Ministry to provide the essentials?" Boris seemed agitated, so Faolin decided to change the subject.

"Hey, since you already got your wand, hornbeam with a unicorn hair core, right?" Boris nodded "And I already have a cat, why don't you buy an owl or a rat or something while I get my wand, and we'll meet back up here, okay?" Faolin tried for a disarming smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.

"Another thing I must pay for." But despite his grumbling, Boris went to get his pet.

Ollivanders was a basic building with 2 large glass towers on either side of the entrance, each 2 stories high. A sign above the door read: Ollivanders, makers of fine wands since 382 BC.

Faolin ducked into the store, taking in the sight. There were boxes, presumably containing wands, stacked haphazardly up to the ceiling, and going back as far as Faolin could see. There were thin aisles in between the stacks, but Faolin didn't trust them one bit. Even as he watched, a stack of boxes fell over and buried a section of the store.

"Oh, bother, bother." A portly man with a braided beard came running out of a side room towards the mess. Halfway there, he spotted Faolin.

"Oh, hello there young man!" The man grinned as he walked over to Faolin. "Come for your first wand, I suppose?

"Um, yeah." Faolin eyed the nearest stack of wand boxes, which was leaning precariously towards him.

"Well, son? Which is your wand hand?" Mr. Ollivander removed a tape measure from a nearby desk. "Right or left?"

I'm ambidextrous." Faolin held out his arms as Mr. Ollivander began to measure his hands and arms. The tape continued to measure him as Ollivander stepped away and began to carefully study some of the nearby boxes.

"And what would you say is your strongest attribute, young man?" Ollivander continued to sort through the boxes, occasionally opening one, removing the wand inside, looking at Faolin, then shaking his head and replacing the wand.

"My intelligence."

Mr. Ollivander handed him a wand. "Try this one. Walnut, dragon heartstring core, 11 inches, quite springy." The wand was almost white, with engravings of vines running along the entire wand. Faolin waved the wand hesitantly.

Immediately, the cuff of his sleeve burst into flames. He yelped and dropped the wand as he batted out the flames. Mr. Ollivander calmly picked up the wand and returned it to its box.

"No, no, I suppose not, eh?" He looked at Faolin again. "Tell me, when you walk into a room of new people, what's the first thing you do?"

"I suppose I try and figure out as many people as I can before I make contact. Try and figure out what makes them tick. It helps to keep some form of control over the situation." Faolin wondered why he was asking so many questions_. The wand probably needs to be aligned to my personality, _Faolin answered himself.

"Yes, the wand chooses the wizard. That has always been clear."

Faolin jumped, _turning_ to see who had spoken. There was a girl about his age standing a few feet behind him, looking rather like she was trying to disappear into the stacks of boxes behind her. She had shockingly red hair and equally vibrant sky blue eyes. She had a sharp chin and high cheekbones, like him, and a button nose. She stared back at Faolin, looking quite terrified.

"Hey there. I suppose I spoke aloud?" Faolin asked, watching her with utmost interest. He was almost certain he hadn't made any noise, or Ollivander would've responded.

"Oh, um, yeah. You didn't mean to?" She seemed slightly less panicked but still nervous. "I-I'm Ciara, by the way." Her accent was distinctly Irish. "Faolin, right? I heard you mention it to Mr. Ollivander." Faolin definitely hadn't, but he decided not to press the topic, more out of curiosity than reason.

Mr. Ollivander handed him a wand of beech, which reacted to him as poorly as the first, worsening the mess of wands scattered across the floor.

Faolin turned to Ciara. "Where are you from?"

She seemed shocked that he was still talking to her. "O-Oh, Dublin," She replied shakily. "You?"

"Belfast." He tried again for a winning smile. He must've been more successful this time because Ciara smiled back.

"Mr. Faolin?" Ollivander asked. "Would you rather act, or react?"

Faolin considered the question. "Well, that depends on the situation. Sometimes it would be better to act, and sometimes it would be better to react, and I can only choose right if I'm familiar with the situation. So I guess I would say neither. It's always best to know," Faolin answered.

The next wand, a cedar one, blew up Mr. Ollivander's desk, throwing wood, nails and whatever was inside across the shop, knocking over yet another poorly stacked pile of wand boxes. _This place is a public saftey hazard,_ Faolin thought.

Then Faolin spotted a wand laying at his feet that must have come from Mr. Ollivander's desk, since it had no box. Faolon picked it up, feeling oddly drawn to it. The wand was thirty-two centimeters long, dark brown with three grooves sporaling up the shaft. The tip was capped with silver, and at the opposite end, an egg shaped sapphire with a two centimeter diameter was secured to the back of the handle by three silver talons wrapped around it. The ball of wood that seperated the engraved grip and the shaft was also trimmed in silver. It seemed to hum in hos grip, ready to do magic at a moment's notice.

"What's this?" Faolin stared at the wand, unsure if it would by appropriate to try it.

"Oh, that was an experiment by my father. Not a very sussesful one, though. I think the falirue is what prompted him to retire; my still see him as the best wandmaker in the world." Faolin raised his eyebrow at . This wasn't the information he wanted.

"It has an interesting dual-core, that is, there are two cores within the same wand: a Phoenix feather and a Thunderbird feather, contained in twelve-and-a-half inches of blackthorn wood. It's also an experiment about how using crystals can affect a wand. It doesn't really do anything. My father thought that the two cores cancel each other out. It doesn't do anything.

Faolin waved the wand at the mess around him, and oh boy, did it do something.

The wands strewn around the shop picked themselves up, flying back into their boxes and sorting themselves back onto the shelves and into mech neater stacks. In just a few seconds, all the evidence of Faolin wand testing disappeared.

"Why I-Well, um yes, t-that will do." Ollivander gave the wand a box and a cleaning kit, which he then gave to Faolin.

Faolin could feel Ciara watching him silently as he completed the purchase. He remained behind to watch her receive a wand. Ollivander took twice as long to find her a suitable wand, possibly because she only occasionally answered his questions. When she finally walked out of the shop with her wand, an eleven-and-a-quarter inch length of willow wood with a unicorn hair core, Faolin ran to catch up with her.

"I never got your last name." He asked, stopping next to her.

"Oh! I- um... It's Flynn." She was staring at him intently. He fought to keep his real question in the back of his mind until he could ask Boris or Mrs. Ramirez.

"Ciara Flynn." He tested the name. "You have a pretty name. I'll see you at Hogwarts in September?"

Ciara blushed. "Uh, yeah, I'll see you there." She walked off, leaving Faolin to find Boris. Afterward, Faolin and Boris spent the day hunting down their supplies for their first year at Hogwarts. Only when Faolin was sure Ciara was nowhere near them did he ask Boris the question that had been nagging him since Ollivander's.

"Hey Boris, is it possible to read minds?"

Boris turned to him. "Yeah, it's called Legilimency. Why do you ask?"

Faolin spotted Ciara's unmistakable red hair a couple of shops away, right outside Flourish and Blotts.

"Because I think I just met one."

**[Page Break]**

Mrs. Ramirez had guided Faolin through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾, and over the weeks before the start of term, she had given him rudimentary lessons in occlumency, the ability to defend one's mind from legilimens. As it turned out, Mrs. Ramirez was a legilimens.

Faolin refrained from telling her his suspicions about Ciara, instead simply insisting that he wished to keep his thoughts private (which was true), and that he hadn't gotten the name of the legilimens he had met in Diagon Alley (which was not true).

It occurred to Faolin as he boarded the train that lying to a mind-reader might be impossible. He was unable to ponder this further, as he was distracted by shouting in the train car he was in, along with a fair amount of banging.

"Hey, watch it!"

Faolin pulled Boris out of the way of a group of older kids barreling through the center aisle.

"You need to watch where you're going, mate." Faolin approached the nearest empty compartment, dragging Boris with him. They were almost in when Faolin saw someone was already inside. Someone Faolin recognized.

Ciara Flynn was sitting in the compartment, alone, reading a book. Faolin knocked on the open door.

She looked up in confusion at Boris, who was larger and more noticeable than Faolin. When she looked to Faolin, her features jumped as she recognized him, her expression morphing into something like hope, and fear.

_She's by herself because she's afraid nobody will like her. Hunching over, trying to make herself look smaller than she is. She's used to being alone, but she doesn't necessarily prefer it._

_She looks like she could use some friends_.

"Hi, Ciara." Faolin smiled at her. Smiling at her was so easy. "Mind if we sit with you?"

Ciara shook her head, and Faolin brought Boris in. Ciara returned to her copy of The Hobbit. She seemed determined to ignore them. As an experiment, Faolin raised his mental defenses.

Ciara gasped softly and looked up at him in shock. Faolin winked at her. Her expression shifted into deep guilt.

"It's okay since I can stop it now." Faolin smiled at her.

"I'm confused, did I miss something?" Boris looked up from his own book, a copy of Karl Marx's Communist Manifesto.

"Ciara is the Legilimens I met in Diagon Alley. I've learned some basic Occlumency since then."

"I'm sorry, it just happens. I can't turn it off, and I can't hear anything other than what you're thinking at the moment. I've been able to do it as long as I can remember." Faolin could hardly hear her, she talked so softly.

"That's alright. It's not your fault you were born with this ability." Faolin patted her shoulder.

"You don't have many friends, do you?" Boris asked, setting his book down completely. He instead began to fidget with his ushanka, waiting for her reply.

"No. People always say I'm weird, and that I'm too shy."

"We'll be your friends." Boris continued. "If you'll be ours."

Ciara smiled slightly. "I don't even know your name-. Boris, Boris Ulanov." She smiled more. "I'm Ciara Flynn."

"Bori-, well, you already know my name." Boris shook his head. "So instead, let me talk to you about the equalization of the upper and lower classes brought by communism."

Ciara's look of bemusement at this sudden change of topic was so priceless, Faolin couldn't help but laugh. He laughed until Ciara started laughing too, leaving Boris staring at them in confusion.

"Guys, I'm serious. Capitalism allows the rich to stay rich and forces the poor to stay poor. Guys, stop laughing! Seriously, capitalism sucks. You must see that too, right? Guys!" But Boris's protests only fueled their amusement, until finally, a voice outside their compartment cut off the laughter.

"Well well well, boys, looks like the weird girl found some friends. Wonder what happens when they realize she can't talk."

There was a small boy standing in the doorway of their compartment. He was scrawny and underweight, but he had a smug look on his chiseled face as if he owned the world. Faolin felt an immediate urge to punch the newcomer right in his oversized hawk nose.

_Hold that in. Try diplomacy first._

"And you are?" Boris challenged.

"Dante Belmont, but you can call me Big D.

Coming from my home in southern Italy.

I think you all should know, I'm the next big thing.

And I'm gonna run Hogwarts like I was king."

There was a stunned silence after this verse, broken by applause from Dante's gang.

"Okay, but did you really need to rap that?" Faolin definitely didn't like the arrogant air about this guy. The idea of breaking the little twerp's nose was becoming more and more appealing by the second.

"Hey, who do you think you are?" Dante waddled up to Faolin, his (fake) gold chains clinking around his neck. At 145 centimeters Faolin was no one's idea of tall. In fact, he was rather skinny himself. But Dante was at least 13 centimeters shorter than Faolin, and not at all athletic. If it came to a fight, Faolin was confident he could take Dante. His gang was a different story.

Dante reached up and grabbed Faolin's ear.

And for some reason, Boris just lost it.

"Gryaznaya kapitalisticheskaya svin'ya!" He yelled, pushing Dante back. Boris reached into his coat and pulled out a handgun, leveling it at Dante and his gang.

"Idi nahuy, mudak!" He yelled again. "Get out! all of you!"

"Whoa, calm down there, mate!" Faolin attempted to force the gun away from Dante while also pushing Dante out into the hall. "Maybe we shouldn't shoot him just yet!"

Most of the people in the room were simply staring at the gun in confusion, Dante and Ciara among them. Some, however, were having a similar reaction as Faolin, and were trying to urge their friends out of the compartment.

"Hey Dante," Faolin called after him. "The thing is, if you take away a wannabe gangster's chains, all you have left is a nitwit in baggy pants. You gombeen." Faolin quickly raised his wand and shouted one of the few spells he had managed to learn in the weeks between Diagon Alley and the start of the term.

"Accio chains!"

And the chains flew into his hands, snapping right off Dante's willowy neck.

"Colloportus!" He followed, locking the door to the compartment. He walked to the other side of the room and threw the chains out the window.

"They weren't even real, anyway." Faolin confided as Boris put his gun away.

Ciara and Boris looked at him.

"You fecking eejit," Faolin said to Boris. "Why do you have a gun?"

"A good slav is always prepared to defend his comrades."

"Yeah," Faolin agreed. "But aren't you a wizard?"

Boris turned beet red, and all at once, the three of them began to laugh harder than Faolin ever remembered laughing in his life.

**[Page Break]**

The Great Hall was massive.

It made sense that it would be massive. It was a great hall, after all. But the size of the hall was simply mind-boggling. It was at least twice the size of Faolin's house!

Also, the ceiling was apparently enchanted to show the sky, because when he looked up, all he could see were stars, as well as the abyss that surrounded them.

Boris bumped his shoulder. "Eyes forward, comrade."

Faolin looked at the rest of the room. There were four tables, each with about 200 people. The tables seemed to be sorted by color, one was red, one was yellow, one was blue, and the last was green. The occupants all wore the color of the table they were sitting at.

Some kind of sorting system, probably makes it easier to keep order. Faolin thought, before turning his gaze to the front of the room.

There was a large table at the end of the hall, on a raised section of the floor. There was an ornate podium in front of the table, accompanied by a simple wooden stool.

The center of the end table was taken by a stately looking older woman in dark green robes and a large pointed hat. Sitting directly to her left was Mrs. Ramirez, in a slightly smaller, but still massive, red, throne-type chair. A large nameplate on the table in front of her read Evelyn Ramirez (Defense Against the Dark Arts). She was chatting with the person to her left, a woman also appearing to be in her forties, in a yellow throne. This woman had golden hair and sky blue eyes, and her nameplate read Professor Penny Haywood (Potions). Penny looked extremely happy to be where she was. Or maybe she was just happy to be talking to Evelyn.

To the right of the green-robed woman, in a blue throne, was another woman with black hair and dark skin, although Faolin couldn't see her eyes because she was reading a book with more passion and energy than is usually found among readers. Her nameplate read Professor Rowan Khanna (Charms).

The final throne was green, to the right of the reading woman. This chair held a man with dark brown hair and a seemingly permanent scowl. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, making him the youngest occupant of the table. According to his nameplate, his name was Felix Vincent, and he taught transfiguration.

There were more adults sitting in the wings, but Faolin didn't get time to observe them, because the lady in the green robes had come to the podium, which was shaped like an owl with its wings spread, perched on a crystal ball.

"As much as I would love to welcome you all back to Hogwarts, I must first welcome our batch of first years." She turned to the crowd Faolin was part of. About 140 of them, all 11-year-olds were standing in between where the teachers sat, and the student tables.

At that moment, the headmistress (for surely that was what she was), set a ragged wizard hat on the stool. It was much like the hat she was wearing, but older, possibly as old as the school itself.

"Here comes the sorting ceremony," Boris said next to him.

Then, just when Faolin had decided he would let nothing surprise him, the hat did. It began to sing. A tear near the brim moved like a mouth.

_Every year on September 1st, _

_I'm called forth to do my duty. _

_To the Hogwarts welcome banquet,_

_To show you my inner beauty._

_You may think I'm worn and ugly _

_And that I should be thrown away. _

_But I will decide your future, _

_You shall witness it here today._

_It's no easy task before me, _

_For I alone must decide, _

_By looking deep into your mind _

_In which house you ought to reside._

_Fair Hufflepuff; Wise Ravenclaw; _

_Shrewd Slytherin; Brave Gryffindor. _

_Four wizards who chose for themselves, _

_But no longer, they are no more._

_What fair Hufflepuff valued most _

_Was gentle determination. _

_And wise Ravenclaw believed in_

_Knowledgeable inspiration._

_Three words to describe Slytherin, _

_Are ambitious, sly, and cunning. _

_Sometimes the means he would take to_

_Get results were rather stunning._

_And finally, brave Gryffindor _

_Was courageous, noble and brave. _

_He preferred that all his students _

_Stay chivalrous unto their grave._

_Four houses, all great and mighty, _

_All excelling in their own way. _

_I know that the four Founders all_

_Would be proud to see us today._

_So now I'm here again for you,_

_They have not found a better way!_

_So put me on upon your head, _

_Let's get the sorting underway!_

There was applause as the hat finished it's song before the headmistress began to call names.

"Belmonte, Dante!"

The sleazy midget from the train waddled up to the stool. He had only just donned the hat when it cried out.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Applause erupted from the Slytherin table. Dante ran to join them, his black robes shifting to the Slytherin green as he did.

"What house do you want into?" Faolin wasn't sure if he should be talking, so he kept his voice down as he asked

"Hufflepuff," Boris replied without hesitation. "Can you really see me being anywhere else?"

"Not any more than I can imagine not being in Ravenclaw," Faolin admitted

"Yeah, you'll be a shoo-in." Boris agreed.

"Desjardins, Alexis!"

A French-looking girl with brown hair ran up to the podium. The hat hesitated for a moment before proclaiming its decision.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Flynn, Ciara!"

Ciara flinched, making Faolin jump. He hadn't even noticed she was there, reading the Hobbit. She looked characteristically terrified.

_Poor Ciara, having to be sorted in front of a thousand students. When she's as shy as she is? No wonder she's panicking._ Faolin gave her a little bump.

"Go on. It's not like you can stop it." He smiled at her again; it was so easy. "Everyone's getting sorted, the only thing people can make fun of you for is hesitating.

She smiled back, and after a moment's hesitation, ran up to be sorted. She flinched when the headmistress placed the hat on her head, and she yelped and nearly fell off the stool when the hat made its choice.

"RAVENCLAW!"

She recovered herself, then fled down the stairs to hide among her new house.

Faolin and Boris resumed talking about the four houses as the sorting ceremony continued, but Faolin did not let the happenings of the ceremony escape him, and he continued to keep an eye on the hat the entire time. He saw Chike Kayode become a Hufflepuff. He saw Helgi Solberg become a Gryffindor, which seemed to upset him for some reason, even though Gryffindor was supposedly the most prestigious house. Maybe he was always upset.

Finally, it was Boris's turn.

"Ulanov, Boris!"

Boris chuckled. "Alright, time to go get put into Hufflepuff."

He ran up the stairs, leaving only Faolin and a Chinese girl standing before the podium. Boris sat on the stool and the headmaster placed the Sorting Hat on his head. Faolin, as well as everyone else in the great hall, leaned forward waiting for the sorting hat's verdict.

And they waited.

And they waited.

And they waited.

The hat seemed to be muttering to itself, considering. They must've waited at least 7 minutes for the Sorting Hat to finally announce its final decision.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Boris looked shocked. Faolin was too. Hadn't they just been talking about how much of a Hufflepuff Boris was?

Still looking shocked, as well as confused, Boris trudged over to the Slytherin table. He sat down, his robes taking their time to turn green. His housemates welcomed him somewhat reluctantly._ What makes Boris more suited for Slytherin than Hufflepuff?_

Faolin didn't have time to explore that mystery just yet, however, as he was next for sorting.

"Wallace, Faolin!"

Faolin walked up to the stool and sat down, now less trustful of the Sorting Hat's judgment than before. The headmistress placed the hat on his head.

_Hmm, what have we here? Yes, I see…_ The sorting hat spoke, probably in his head, since no one was reacting to the hat's words. Besides, it hadn't spoken for anybody else, except to announce its choice.

"RAVENCLAW!"

Faolin jumped off the stool, relieved to have been sorted into the house of his choice. Ciara looked up from the Hobbit to welcome him, scooting over to let Faolin sit next to her. He sat, listening as the last girl, Jia Yeung, became a Hufflepuff.

Faolin half-listened to Mrs. Mcgonagall's introductory speech, introducing the new students to Hogwarts, laying out the rules, and telling the older students what had changed since last year. Mrs. Ramirez had been made head of Gryffindor house, and their new flying coach was a boy named Oliver Woods.

Then they ate. Or rather, everyone else did. Faolin didn't eat much, and from stolen glances across the hall, neither did Boris. Even Ciara ate more than them.

_I hope he'll be alright_. Boris seemed distraught.

Faolin continued to worry about Boris, but was unable to pursue the mystery of his house that night. Between a tour of castle grounds and introducing himself to all the older Ravenclaws, making sure to figure them out and make a good first impression.

It was only late that night when he began to find a traceable path of reasoning, but before he could follow it, sleep enveloped him, sweeping away all of his troubles until morning.

**[Page Break]**

It wasn't fair.

Why did Faolin get to be a wizard, and get whisked off the magic-school, while Cathal had to stay completely normal? They were twins. If anything, both of them should be magic! But no, Cathal had to be normal.

_Well… not completely normal._ Cathal conceded to himself. He was the smartest person in Belfast, he was confident of that. He might be the smartest person in Ireland.

Surely smarter than Faolin. However magical Cathal's brother might be, he hadn't skipped any grades. Before his revelation as a sorcerer, he had been going to attend the public middle school. This year, Cathal was going to high school for classes in chemistry, physics, biology, calculus, programming, and engineering. His first day had been today. Cathal was a genius. Every IQ test and practical piece of evidence said so.

Cathal waved away his cat, Dono, who was lonely since Faolin left with his brother, Kieran. Cathel felt bad for doing it, but he had to do something, anything to make himself feel worthwhile, even if he knew there was no making up for a lack of magic.

Cathal ran his hand through his auburn hair, the biggest difference between him and Faolin, who had medium brown hair. Cathal wondered what decided what muggles would be born wizards.

They were nearly the same. So why did he get left behind? Because the ability to learn magic was innate, Mrs. Ramirez had said. Because Faolin had to be better than Cathal at something, Faolin had said.

Well, there was some reason to Faolin's argument, Cathal thought. He turned off his 3d printer, instead of turning to his computer, where his attempts to create sentient AI resided. He was close, closer than anyone had ever been.

He had reached random thoughts, and he was working on the ability to create a tangible train of thought. The only thing he hadn't tried was getting it to be self-aware and curious. He could program an algorithm to claim to be self-aware, but getting it to actually be such was infinitely harder.

He booted up his most recent algorithm, LARK. He fiddled with the program for an hour or so, but his heart wasn't in it. Cathal was too distracted.

Frustrated, he pushed himself away from the desk. He thought about his lack of magic. Would magic help with this problem? He racked his brain, trying to remember what Faolin had told him about magic before he left.

_Magic has layers, like an onion. The top layers are simple things, like levitating stuff and changing color. The deeper layers are more seemingly non-scientific things, like changing weight without changing mass or density, or turning one thing into an entirely different thing, but there's still a science._

_Layers… AI…_

Cathal sat up, nearly braining himself on the bunk bed he now had to himself. Was it possible to layer his AI? Instead of cramming it all into one jumbled-up algorithm, could he break it down into several much simpler, mutually-dependant algorithms, running simultaneously?

Cathal cleared out LARK, not even taking the time to save its changes. He brought up his notes on his previous attempts, then stopped.

What would he call it? Cathal thought about it for a long while before he reached a conclusion. Magic had inspired him, but not helped him. His AI belonged to science. Cathal smiled as he typed in the name of his new project: ATOM.

**Author's Note.**

**There it is, done, the prologue of The Feather of Truth. Thank you so much for staying to the end, kind reader. It really means a lot to me. It took a solid week of blowing off my homework to finish, but it was totally worth it. This is surreal for me. I'm posting something I wrote to the internet. My dream is to become an author, and this is the next best thing, homework be damned.**

**Once again, thank you for reading, and I hope you all have a wonderful day. Or night, if you're reading this in bed at 1:00 AM. I've been there. **

**Stay on top, Lads. -ZS**


	2. Chapter One - the First Day

**Author's Note**

**Thank you for remaining around for chapter one! Once again, you have no idea how much it means to me that you're reading this. I took more time to produce this chapter, but it's longer, and hopefully provides an idea of how long each chapter takes to write, because as soon as I can give you a schedule, the happier I will be. Thanks again for reading! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't don't own Harry Potter. I think we all know this.**

It wasn't until the next morning when Faolin remembered Boris' predicament, and although he knew he'd had an idea about it last night, it was gone now. He sighed. His brain had been mush yesterday. There were so many things he should've remembered from yesterday, but couldn't.

At least the beds were nice.

He liked the color blue, fortunately, because the Ravenclaw dormitories were full of it. So was the common room, which was only a few books short of being a library. Faolin was kind of unreasonably excited about that.

Faolin checked his schedule. He would have potions with Slytherin first thing on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings. Good. Today was a Wednesday, so Faolin would have time to check in with Boris.

But first, there would be breakfast. Faolin really regretted not eating last night, and unless Boris was some kind of superhuman, he would be too.

Not getting ahead of himself, Faolin began to pack the supplies he would need for potions class. He was already dressed, and there were still ten minutes until breakfast.

Pewter cauldron? Check. Brass scales? Check. Vials of various and sometimes unnecessary sizes and shapes? Check. Mortar and pestle? Check. Quill and parchment? Check. Copies of _Magical Drafts and Potions_ and _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_? Check and check.

_Are we really going to go through a thousand herbs and fungi in one year, though? _Faolin wondered. _Cause that would be awesome._

Kieran jumped up on Faolin's bed and began to stretch, his dark fur rippling over his lean frame. Kieran was almost entirely black, except for his paws, underbelly, and the tips of his tail and ears. After he was done, Kieran began to purr for attention.

"You cute hoor." Faolin scolded as he scratched behind the black cat's ears. "Are you ever gonna be content to just sit in the sun and ignore me like other cats?"

Kieran purred louder, which was probably a very decisive no.

"Well I don't know if you can come to class with me, so you might want to start exploring other things to do in the day."

"Oh, he can," Said the boy on the other side of the dorm. "As long as he doesn't disrupt the class."

Faolin was about to respond when someone, presumably the Ravenclaw prefect, knocked on the door.

"Five minutes till breakfast, so if you're not up, get there now! As in NOW!"

Faolin's dorm mate was quick to yell back: "Okay Lewis, we get it, you're grumpy and you haven't had your coffee! Leave off!"

Faolin sighed and double-checked what he had for potions class. Then he joined the others in the common room and followed them to the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was quieter than it was last night, but the excited hubbub of the first years, mixed in with the more sedated chatter of the returning students kept the hall plenty full of noise. The hearth on the Hufflepuff side of the hall burned dimly. Faolin sat down next to Ciara.

"How're you holding up?" Faolin asked quietly, grabbing a bowl of oatmeal sitting on the table. Ciara was still reading _The Hobbit_, although she looked pretty close to the end. When she didn't respond, he bumped her shoulder and asked again.

"Oh, I'm fine." She said softly. "Just…"

"Terrified?" Faolin finished. "Yeah, new environment and all that, but you'll get used to it," he assured her.

Ciara looked extremely doubtful of that.

Faolin ate ravenously, having eaten almost nothing yesterday. He was pretty sure his last meal had been on the Hogwarts Express. By the time he was done, he had devoured two bowls of oatmeal, three bananas, and a cup of orange juice.

When he got back to the Ravenclaw tower to grab his stuff, he found a crowd, almost the entire house, waiting outside.

"Hey, what's the holdup?" Faolin asked, rather irritated.

"The knocker gave us a doozy of a riddle this time." Lewis, the Ravenclaw prefect answered. "Nobody can get it."

Faolin waited for a few seconds. When no one spoke up, he sighed. "Is anyone going to let me try?" Faolin was now fully annoyed.

Ciara reached up and knocked on the door with a bronze, eagle-shaped knocker. The one that gave out riddles to keep out anyone but Ravenclaw students. The knocker spoke, in the sense that the voice that followed came from the knocker.

"What is it when given one, you'll have either two or none?" The knocker sounded about as exasperated as Faolin felt. After a minute of pondering, the answer presented itself to Faolin. As with the answers to most riddles, it was painfully obvious in hindsight.

"A choice," Faolin said. A few older Ravenclaws looked at him, most appearing curious as to Faolin's answer.

"Finally." The metallic voice of the knocker spoke. "Go on, then." The door opened. The knocker continued to complain about the falling intelligence of Ravenclaws every year under its breath. Could an inanimate object mutter under its non-existent breath?

Faolin pushed through as a few of his housemates cheered for him. _Idiots. _Faolin thought. _They should have been able to solve that. This is the most intelligent house, after all. _

He gathered his things and ran off to potions class. The door encounter had eaten a few minutes of his time, and if he wanted to meet the professor before class started, he would have to hurry. Faolin always found it useful to know his teachers before class, both to make a unique first impression, and to gauge their personality and teaching style. Would they congratulate him on new and creative answers, or would they prefer he just follow the textbook's instructions?

Despite his annoyance, Faolin knew something good had come of the door-knocker encounter. He had gained his housemates' respect and secured his place as one of, if not _the_, most gifted members of their house.

Faolin headed off for potions class, still thinking about his triumph over the door knocker.

The way to potions class was cold. Wizards should have been able to keep a hallway warm, but one particular passage was at least freezing. Faolin wondered if magic was responsible for the unnatural cold, because even the outside was warmer than here.

The potions class was in the dungeons, which may have been an appropriate location for the subject, if not for the teacher. Professor Haywood seemed like a beacon of joy and enthusiasm in an otherwise dark and dreary classroom in possibly the darkest and most drear section of Hogwarts: the dungeons.

Even from a distance, Faolin had observed Penny Haywood's nearly palpable positivity and excitability at the welcome feast.

The professor was greeting some Slytherin students when Faolin came in, so he took a moment to observe the classroom as he put his stuff down.

The potions classroom was minimally lit by torches, with large stone bricks constituting the walls. The low roof and large bubbling cauldron only added to his opinion of the room; it had been built to suit a thematic taste almost entirely different from Mrs. Haywood's.

Professor Haywood finally came over to greet Faolin just as he began to suspect that there had been multiple explosions in this room, based on the cracks and ash marks on the walls and floor.

"Hi! I'm your potions professor, Mrs. Haywood." Her radiant smile was so infectious, Faolin had to fight not to smile back. She hadn't earned it. Not yet. Faolin could tell that in her youth, Penny Haywood had been very beautiful.

Maintaining a calm demeanor, Faolin shook her hand. "Faolin Wallace." Her hands were soft but strong, and her nails had an even and full coat of yellow paint. Faolin took this to mean that Mrs. Haywood did just as much work as Mrs. Ramirez, but was more fastidious about caring for her hands, making her slightly more stereotypically feminine.

Professor Haywood was also wearing a wedding ring identical to Mrs. Ramirez's wedding ring. After some thought, he decided to point this out, since professor Haywood was not likely to judge him harshly, on the off-chance Faolin was wrong.

"Mrs. Ramirez has the same wedding ring. Are you married?" Faolin asked, careful to make it sound as though he was not already sure he was right.

She smiled wider, and her eyes seemed to shine. "Most people don't notice that." She unconsciously felt the ring, as if to assure herself that it was still there. "We've been married for 26 years, since we were 21."

Faolin did some quick math in his head. "But same-sex marriage wasn't legalized in the UK until 2014."

"Maybe under muggle law, but homosexuals have never been targeted in the wizarding community."

"Oh." Faolin tried to fit this new information into his view of the magical community.

"How do you know Evelyn?" Mrs. Haywood asked.

"She helped me into Diagon Alley and Platform 9 ¾," Faolin said. And she gave me my acceptance letter, since I'm muggle-born."

After his explanation, the bulk of the students arrived, quickly filling up the room and marking the start of class. Professor Haywood said goodbye and walked away to deal with a hundred little things that needed her attention before the class could start. Boris found a seat next to Faolin.

Boris looked worse for wear since last night. He had bags under his eyes and his hair was a mess under his _ushanka_.

"Hey." Faolin started. Sleep well?" Faolin waved Ciara over.

"Do I look like I slept well?" Boris asked.

"No... not really." Faolin began to leaf through his textbook, _Magical Drafts and Potions_, pausing when he saw something interesting, skimming over the rest of it. He began to count the appearance of consistent 'rules' to potions.

"I just don't understand how I was put into Slytherin," Boris complained. "I thought I would be a shoo-in for Hufflepuff. What makes me a Slytherin?"

"Well, I think it's your ambition," Faolin said. "You've got big ideas and even bigger plans. You want to start a communist revolution. If that's not ambition, I don't know what is." Faolin stopped on a potion that looked particularly interesting. _Wideye potion. Prevents or ends sleep when administered._

"Welcome to your first potions class!" Professor Haywood ran up the front of the classroom, rousing students to attention. Faolin and Boris tabled further discussion until after Professor Haywood had finished running them through the basic rules of potion-making. She then began to run them through the steps to create the Cure for Boils potion.

Faolin was adding his horned slugs when he realized that Mrs. Haywood wasn't doing as the textbook called for. The differences were slight but noticeable. After a moment's debate, Faolin decided to copy her instead of the book.

"What are you doing? You're not supposed to add the porcupine quills until later," Boris said. Faolin looked up and saw that Ciara was also copying Haywood.

"I'm copying the professor, look," Faolin added, and began to stir, carefully mimicking Haywood.

"You are insane," Boris decided. "I'm staying with the book."

After their potions were complete, Faolin could see a slight difference between their potions, and biased though Faolin may have been, he had to say his was marginally better.

"Can you tell why Haywood was following different instructions than us?" Faolin asked Ciara.

"No, I can't read her," Ciara replied softly. "She's been practicing occlumency for a long time, though. I can tell that much." Something clicked in Faolin's mind.

"Of course she has," Faolin said, wondering why he hadn't seen it. "She married a legilimens, of course she can protect her mind."

"Who?" Boris asked.

"Evelyn Ramirez, our DADA professor, she's a legilimens. They've been married their entire adult lives." Faolin looked at Ciara. "She could help you control your ability. You should tell her."

"And get sent to St Mungo's for the rest of my life? Are you crazy?"

"Legilimens don't get sent to St Mungo's," Boris retorted. "They're too common to be considered an ailment."

"You don't get it, I'm supposed to be able to turn it off. The only other person I could find close to my level of talent was an American witch named Queenie Goldstein, and she was a close advisor of Gellert Grindelwald."

"That does not mean you'll turn out like her."

"But others might think I will. Others _will_ think I will. Trust me, I know."

"Well, That concludes our first lesson," Haywood said after checking all their cure for boils potions. "Class dismissed!" 

**[Page Break]**

Faolin's thirst for knowledge in the new world he had found himself in had fueled great curiosity and attentiveness during the weeks leading up to September 1. But nothing could have prepared him for Professor Binns' class. Faolin would've assumed a class taught by a ghost would be interesting, but no.

History of Magic with Hufflepuff was the singular most boring event of Faolin's life so far. Faolin wondered whether Professor Binns was _trying _to put them to sleep. Almost half the class was unconscious by the end of it. Indeed, only Faolin's intense curiosity about everything magic, along with a good deal of mental fortitude kept him focused.

On the bright side, at the end of class Professor Binns gave Faolin 20 house points for being the only student to remain attentive for the whole lesson. (Faolin later learned that Binns would award 20 house points to any student who was able to stay focused for the whole class. From then on, Faolin made a valiant effort each day to remain awake through second period.)

Third period brought much more interesting results. Charms class with Gryffindor, headed by Professor Mistery.

Their first charms class covered _Wingardium Leviosa_, the levitation charm. Faolin immediately recognized it as the spell Ramirez had shown them when she had first invited him to Hogwarts.

The Gryffindor boy sitting next to him seemed grumpy. He had blond hair and blue-gray eyes, with a strong jaw, broad shoulders and a barrel chest, he looked about as strong as a rhinoceros. Faolin tried to introduce himself.

"I'm Faolin," he prompted. When the boy didn't respond, he tried harder. "And you are…"

"Obviously someone who isn't interested in getting to know you." He replied curtly. Not one to be foiled so easily, Faolin opened the inside cover of the boy's textbook.

"Helgi Solberg…" Faolin read. "Hey, you're that kid who looked angry while getting sorted into Gryffindor." Faolin started absent-mindedly flipping through the textbook. "Were you upset about something?"

Helgi snatched back his textbook. "I'll show you upset if you don't _shove off_."

_He's not half as mean as he wants me to think he is. _Faolin thought. _I could probably befriend him. Maybe._

"Remember, it's pronounced win-GAR-dee-um Lev-ee-OH-sah. Make sure to make the _gar_ nice and long," Professor Mistery lectured. "Anyone with questions, don't be afraid to ask."

Faolin stared at the feather he had to levitate. He looked through the book for instructions. Nothing about mental practices. Great.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, imagining- so strongly it was as if he were trying to convince himself it was reality- that the feather _was_ levitating in front of him.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_," Faolin spoke. He heard a few people gasp, then opened his eyes.

The feather was floating, as it was held up by an invisible string. But faolin knew he was doing it; he could feel a faint, almost impossible to feel pulsing in the back of his mind that he instinctively knew meant he was maintaining a spell, letting the magic flow from him, through his wand, and into the feather, powering its blatant defiance of gravity.

Faolin got a mischievous idea just then. He focused on the feather, willing it to cross the aisle where the professor was walking back and forth, offering advice to students.

He watched as the feather crossed the room, becoming aware that the spell became more difficult to control the farther the feather got from him.

He raised it to Ciara, nearly dropping it as he did. Ciara managed to not notice. He waved it around a bit until he managed to tickle Ciara's ear with it.

Ciara, unsurprisingly, yelped and jumped. Several students who had been watching the feather laughed, making Ciara cringe. She was staring at him, her expression something between hurt and shock. _Oh dear, _Faolin realized. _She thinks I'm bullying her._

Faolin opened his mind, dropping his occlumency just for a moment. _It's just a joke, _He thought at her, smiling good-naturedly. _They're not laughing at your reaction nearly so much as they're laughing at my immaturity and gall. I'm acting the maggot for your sake. You looked like you had a knife at your throat. _She began to smile at him unsurely. _I'm probably gonna get scolded for this,_ Faolin thought just before raising his occlumency back to guard.

Sure enough, Mistery's voice rang out from her desk. "Good job, Faolin, very nice spellwork, but _please _don't harass the other students.

Faolin nodded and flicked his wand back, bringing the feather back to his end of the room and set the piece of plumage down in Helgi's hair, prompting more laughs.

Helgi glared at him, but Faolin could tell he was amused, if only slightly.

"_Faolin…_" Professor Mistery warned.

"Okay, fine," Faolin said amiably, but not ashamedly. He had eased up Ciara and gotten closer to Helgi, as well as having added humor to his fledgling reputation at Hogwarts.

He reached over and grabbed the feather, sticking the black quill in his own wavy brown hair. This brought forth a final round of subdued snickers from the class.

He smiled broadly at Helgi. This was already shaping up to be an amazing year.

Faolin sat through the rest of the class without causing another scene.

"Class dismissed." Mistery said as the students crowded for the door. "Enjoy your lunch!"

Lunch, as it turned out, was pandemonium. Students were allowed to sit with whomever they wished. Perhaps that was why it was such a mess.

Faolin almost got detention from Filch, the groundskeeper, for running back to his dorm to drop off his things.

Kieran got up to follow him as he left for the Great Hall.

He found Ciara at the Ravenclaw table. He looked for Helgi, but couldn't see him anywhere, which was odd, seeing as Helgi was larger than some of the professors.

"Where's Boris?" Faolin asked, grabbing a taco from the table. Wow, they really served everything here.

Ciara pointed to a crowd of students near the end of the Slytherin table. He could hear Boris in the middle of it, talking faster than Faolin thought he could.

"What's he doing in the thick of that?"

Ciara opened her mouth a few times, then apparently decided it would be easier to show him, beckoning him over and through the crowd.

Boris was standing on the table, ranting to the crowd below him, not seeming to realize just how many people were listening to him.

"The problem with capitalism is private production value. In capitalism, the upper class pays the working class the _bare minimum_ they can, and keep the rest. They own the material, technology, and even the _people_. The money stays with them. The worker is paid for _time_, not product value. the actual value of the item means _nothing_ to the upper class. The rich stay rich and the poor stay..."

"He can really get going, can't he?" Faolin observed. "He looks like Martin Luther King Junior if Martin Luther King Junior was white. And 11 years old. And a communist." Faolin paused. "Maybe that's not the best analogy."

"We need to make the factories publicly owned. The machinery, material, and manpower. Communism is a superior system where everyone works for _each other_ instead of the upper class"

It was Dante who broke Boris' flow. "But communism has never worked. Talk big all you want, but every instance of communism, in reality, has resulted in collapse, dictatorship, or both."

Boris was quick to snap back.

"Because there will always be a group of selfish pigs like you, taking advantage of others. But discluding the nastiest people, communism is clearly a superior system, and if enough people are smart enough to support it."

"Wow." Faolin breathed. _Whether they all agree with him in the long run is negligible. Right now he has their rapt attention, and he's moved them. They might not agree, but I think he's convinced most of them that communism is at least a viable option, _he thought to himself.

"He's a good speaker."

Boris seemed to notice the size of his crowd for the first time. "Um, wow. I- I just- Um…" He trailed off, looking like a cornered animal. Faolin bumped Ciara.

Ciara seemed to get his message. smiling at Boris reassuringly. Faolin shot his mate a double thumbs up and mouthed _you got this_ at him.

Boris seemed to find his steam again. "So yes, I believe communism is the best socio-economic system to date. It places the needs of many over the needs of few, and guess what? Chances are that _you_ are part of the few. This revolution helps _everyone_. You might not be able to help yourself under communism, but if it's done right, you won't need to because _everyone else_ is _already_ looking out for you. Let the ruling classes tremble at a communistic revolution. The workers have nothing to lose but their chains. They have a world to win. _We _have a world to win. WORKING MEN OF ALL COUNTRIES, UNITE!"

Boris stepped down off the table, apparently realizing that this was the best place to end his speech. "Thank you all for listening to me yell at you about an economic revolution, since most of you probably don't care. Now, if you'll excuse me, I haven't eaten yet, and I would really like to."

Faolin clapped, and after a few moments, Ciara joined him. More followed suit until a vast majority of the Great Hall was thundering with applause. Even some of the professors, like Haywood, Ramirez and Mistery were clapping. Headmistress McGonagall didn't clap, but she stood up and smiled kindly.

Dante wasn't clapping. Neither was Felix Vincent, the Head of Slytherin House. But Boris didn't notice them as he got off the table, blushing until he was as red as a soviet flag.

"Alright guys, he gets it, he was awesome. Now let's let him eat." Faolin said as the applause was dying down. "You heard me, scram, go eat something or study in the library or something. Leave him in peace."

The crowd mostly dispersed, leaving only a few near Boris as he adjusted his _ushanka_. Soon, the only students left at the Slytherin table were the Slytherins eating there. Unfortunately, that included Dante. The short Slytherin walked over to them. Faolin was unfortunately distracted by the question of whether Dante's walk was a strut or a waddle, so he missed a beat when Dante started talking.

"You think you're some kind of bigshot, huh Lenin?"

"I think he's earned the right to it, Little Italy. Shove off before I put my foot where the sun doesn't shine."

It was Ciara who had responded. Faolin stared at her. She was never this outspoken. Boris looked shocked too.

Dante recovered first. "So you finally found your tongue, eh Mumbles?" He chuckled. "Even your _friends _look surprised." Dante knew how to hit home. Ciara curled in on herself, whatever gusto she'd had left her in an instant. She made a shockingly good attempt to hide behind her own shadow.

Faolin recovered himself. "Ciara's retort was a pleasant surprise. But there is nothing pleasant _or_ surprising about your picking on someone who made a good speech because you're jealous." Faolin stepped forward and crossed his arms, putting himself between Dante and his friends.

"Jealous?" Dante sounded incredulous. "Why in the name of Salazar Slytherin would I be jealous of Rasputin the Commie over there?"

"You couldn't bring a crowd that size if you tried," Faolin remembered something Boris had told him in potions class. "Dante, aren't you a proud Slytherin?"

"Of course!"

"Wasn't one of the principles of Slytherins house pride and unity?" Faolin smiled. According to Boris, Slytherins considered themselves an elite, and the Slytherin Prefect had assured all the first years that they had nothing to fear from other members of their house, that they would always support each other because they were like a family, part of the elite. "Boris is a member of your house. So you should treat him like one."

Dante turned red. "Barely! Ulanov has freely admitted that he would rather be in Hufflepuff!" Dante swelled up like a threatened Puff Adder. "Hufflepuff, of all the houses!"

"Of all the houses?" Asked a Hufflepuff girl. "What's that supposed to mean?" The girl was taller than Faolin and had dark skin and onyx hair. Her brown eyes flared. "We're not just the house for leftovers you know."

"I didn't-" Dante started.

"But you did." The Hufflepuff girl stepped forward. Her eyes seemed to gleam with anger. "If you can't at least respect all of the houses, then you don't deserve to be here."

"Shove off, Little Italy," Faolin said. "Come on, guys. He's not worth our time."

The Hufflepuff girl followed them as they left Dante at the Slytherin table. "I'm Chike," she said, much more friendly now. "That was really cool of you guys to stand up to him. I've only had one class with him and he's already insufferable." She turned to Boris. "And that speech you gave was awesome. I've never given communism much thought, but now I'm tempted. You really have a way with words."

Then, apparently having said all she wanted to, Chike turned and walked back to the Hufflepuff table.

"You guys didn't have to do that." Boris picked up a type of Russian pastry that Faolin couldn't have named. "I could've handled that."

"By pulling a pistol on him?" Faolin asked.

"Izvini, I might _not _have..." Boris said sheepishly.

They laughed and ate their food, talking about nothing of great importance for the rest of lunch. Faolin briefly wondered where Helgi was, but it seemed unimportant, so he let it be. 

**[Page Break]**

Defense Against the Dark Arts was the class Faolin was looking forward to the most. It was a much-anticipated class among the first years.

Faolin already knew the professor, Evelyn Ramirez, so he didn't bother getting to class early. He walked in with the other first years, taking a seat with Ciara and Boris. Boris got some funny looks for sitting with a couple of Ravenclaws instead of his fellow Slytherins, but either Boris didn't notice or didn't care. He seemed to be in an invincible good mood since his successful speech at lunch.

Professor Ramirez paced at the front of the class. at the front of the classroom, fiddling with her wand. As the class filled in, she slowly calmed down, standing up straighter and holding her wand still.

"Hello class," Ramirez still looked uneasy, but she did a good job of hiding it. "Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts, or DADA. I am Professor Ramirez." Faolin nudged Ciara to put her book down.

"In this class, you will learn to combat the dark arts with a variety of subjects from other classes, such as charms and potions, all geared towards combating the dark arts." The class was rapt with attention now, hanging on her every word. "The dark arts are dangerous and unpredictable, and those who combat them must be equally skilled and ever-vigilant."

Ramirez surveyed the class. "For today, we will be practicing _Protego_, the shielding charm. It is one of the fundamental defensive spells, and can block most offensive spells."

Ramirez then proceeded to walk them through the incantation and wand movement. After a few repetitions, she retrieved a large briefcase from behind her desk and stacked their desks against the wall of the room, making a very large open space.

Ramirez opened the briefcase, revealing several iron balls each about 10 inches in diameter.

"I have acquired several quidditch bludgers for this lesson." The professor began to remove the bludgers from their case. "In a moment, I will release them into the room and you will use the shielding charm to defend yourself."

"But those are real bludgers!" One student complained. "Made out of iron!"

"I couldn't find any bludgers made out of softer materials," Ramirez said. "But since the objective is to not get hit, it shouldn't be that big of a problem."

Faolin smiled. "The 'If you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball' philosophy," he said to the student.

"What?"

Faolin shook his head. "Nothing."

Then Ramirez released the bludgers into the room. At first, the bludgers hit a student every few seconds, but as time progressed, so did the class. Soon they were able to consistently cast Protego on the drop of a dime. Faolin only got hit once, when his back was turned, and he was back on his feet in a few seconds.

The only student who really struggled was Ciara, who couldn't seem to cast the spell nearly fast enough to stop the bludgers. She had a problem with the bludgers being iron. She got hit so much that Professor Ramirez eventually removed her from the lesson, bruised and crying.

Faolin continued to practice _Protego_, feeling pity both for Ciara's humiliation and her failure. Faolin couldn't imagine the disappointment of failing the first lesson. Faolin got hit two more times thinking about it.

After the class was over. Faolin tried to talk Ciara on their way to Herbology with Professor Longbottom, but she wouldn't respond.

Faolin wasn't sure what to make of Herbology with Hufflepuff. It was interesting enough, and Professor Longbottom had been a close friend of Harry Potter, but nothing made the class truly unique in his eyes. At least Ciara seemed to enjoy getting to work at her own pace. By the end of class, she seemed to be back to what constituted as normal for her.

"Since you're an occlumens, you can block your thoughts. Most people think mean things about me." Ciara confided after Herbology. "At the very least, listening to their thoughts as well as their words is confusing."

"Doesn't that make you worried that I have mean thoughts about you that you don't hear?" Faolin asked.

"No, not really. Everyone has bad thoughts sometimes, but don't act on them. As long as I don't hear it, it doesn't affect me. People usually assume that since I'm shy that must also mean I worry a lot." She shook her head. "What I'm trying to say is that talking to you is easy since I can't hear what you're thinking. Even if that means I don't know anything about you."

"There are more ways to learn about someone than mind-reading," Faolin said. "You just have to observe."

Ciara scrunched up her eyebrows. "But don't you only see what they want to show you?"

"Only if they're _really _good at hiding themselves." Faolin started drumming his fingers against his notebook as they waited for Gryffindor to arrive, unconsciously tapping out the rhythm of a lullaby from his infancy. "Most people give clues that you can piece together."

Ciara gave a little 'hmm' in response before Gryffindor reached the transfiguration class, taught by Professor Vincent, Head of Slytherin.

"You are here today to learn the exact science of transfiguration," Vincent said in his drawling voice. "This and potions are the most precise and scientific of the magical arts. There is no room for error, nor any foolishness. I will not hesitate to remove house points for sloppiness."

Vincent then lectured them on the laws of transfiguration, like how the more similar two objects were in appearance, the easier it would be to transfigure one to the other, or what details of an object did and didn't affect the transfiguration process. It wasn't enrapturing, but Faolin managed to keep his head up through the class. Vincent was a tall, wiry man with oily hair and beady little eyes, black as onyx. He spent a lot of time pacing the front of the class in long, effortless strides and making large, dramatic gestures with his hands and arms, sometimes at unnecessary moments. His voice had a strange hollow to it as if he was talking from the other side of a long brass tunnel.

"Solberg," Vincent latched his gaze onto Helgi. "What factors affect the transformation of an object?"

"Mass, wand power, um, distance, and uhh…" Helgi trailed off, thinking hard.

"Wrong," Professor Vincent declared with all the authority and dramatization of a judge sentencing a criminal to death. "If you were listening, you would know this off the top of your head." He made a large sweeping motion with his arms. "Ten points from Gryffindor." Before Helgi could protest, Vincent wheeled around and placed his gaze on Ciara.

"You've been quiet so far, Ms. Flynn. I assume that means you have been listening?" He paused. "Well? What four factors affect the transformation of an object?"

Ciara surprised absolutely nobody when she began to panic. _Even if she does know the answer, there's no way she'll say it aloud. Not with Professor Vincent being as terrifying as possible._ Faolin opened his mind to talk to her for the second time that day. _Mass, viciousness, wand power, and concentration._

"Um, mass… viciousness… wand power, and… concentration?" Ciara looked like she was going to run out of the classroom any minute now.

"Professor Vincent glared at her as if her being right was just as bad as Helgi being wrong.. "Correct," he finally said. He turned and went to the front of the class without giving Ravenclaw a single house point. Faolin ought to do something about that.

Faolin raised his hand. "Professor?"

The professor looked rather angry when he turned to Faolin. "What?" He snarled.

"Didn't you say there was something else… Factor Z?" Faolin asked, suddenly unsure if bringing Vincent's attention to him was such a good idea.

Vincent sighed heavily. "Yes, factor Z represents any other factor that may affect the transfiguration, but is not always present and therefore absent from the equations we will be doing today." Vincent paused, then said with difficulty, like a man lifting the world on his back. "Five points to Ravenclaw."

It was when the class was dismissed that Professor Vincent asked to talk to him. "Wallace, stay to talk after class, will you?"

Faolin, not seeing much of a choice, walked over to the professor.

"I'll have you know, Mr. Wallace, that I do not tolerate cheating in my class."

"Cheating, sir?" Faolin willed himself to stay calm. Vincent couldn't possibly know.

"Do not play dumb with me, Wallace. I know you gave Ms. Flynn the answer to my question today. I do not know how, but I know you did. You were too attentive, she was too grateful." Vincent closed his fist dramatically. "You cheated, and I intend to discover how. The consequences will be much less severe if you tell me now, say, 10 points from Ravenclaw."

"I didn't cheat, sir. I don't think you should be surprised that a Ravenclaw is intelligent and shy. She's hardly the only one of us with social anxiety." Faolin couldn't give Vincent anything to build a theory off of. _He won't find out, _Faolin reassured himself. _He has no way of finding out about Ciara's ability._

"This will not end well for you, Wallace." Vincent tamed his snarl just a bit. "I have said all I intend to. Go run along then, get busy on your homework, and _only_ your homework."

Faolin left the classroom with a mild sense of worry. His first day and he had already got on a teacher's bad side. He knew he could probably stay ahead of Professor Vincent, but he still suspected nothing good could come from the encounter.

He walked to the library to study. He needed to get his mind in the right place. He discovered en route to the library that Hogwarts had disabled his phone somehow.

The library was deathly quiet. The loudest thing there was the librarian, loudly shushing people for talking, walking loudly, breathing heavily, or just plain existing.

Faolin was studying potions when someone sat down on the other side of the table from him. "Care for a game of muggle chess?" The stranger asked.

"I thought wizards had their own chess," Faolin replied.

"We do, but giving verbal orders to your pieces is too loud for Madam Pince."

"Shhh!" Came the beautifully timed shush from the Librarian.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt," Faolin whispered marked his page. "Me. It won't hurt me. You might cry. I'm really good at chess."

"I dunno, I'm alright myself." Faolin looked up. The boy was wearing the bright yellow of Hufflepuff house, as well as a prefect badge. He had curly brown hair and gray eyes that sparkled with humor. He had a smattering of freckles across his impish face, broken in a wide grin. He also had the beginnings of a beard, so he must've been a good deal older than Faolin.

"Alright' isn't going to get you through me," Faolin warned him. "May I know who it is that I am about to crush so soundly?"

The boy smiled. "You can call me Lord Big-Snickers."

"That's not your real name."

"Didn't say it was."

"I'm Faolin. And that is my real name."

"Good to know it."

"Shush!" Called the librarian.

Faolin usually enjoyed chess, and his battle with Lord Big-Snickers was as entertaining as any other. It was also very enlightening. How a person played chess said a good deal about them.

Lord Big-Snickers was good-humored and knew how to go with the flow. His actions were often erratic and confusing, but never pointless. He was content to wait for victory to come to him. Big-Snickers also seemed to see the world in black and white, all-or-nothing.

And he played a great defensive game.

Faolin realized early in the match that Lord Big-Snickers had seriously undersold himself, and had gained a good deal from Faolin underestimating him. Faolin had lost two pawns, a rook, and a knight; he had only taken three pawns and a bishop.

"You never said you were so good," Faolin pointed out to him.

"He has a habit of underselling himself," purred a Slytherin girl behind him, with caramel-colored hair and tanned skin. She looked about 15, maybe a year under Big-Snickers.

"Oh, hey Emily," Big-Snickers said. "Faolin, this is Emily. She's a really good friend of mine." Was it just his imagination, or did Emily flinch a little when he said 'friend'?

"How did you two meet?" Faolin asked, curious to get to the center of that mystery.

"Shhh!" Madam Pince said. "Or I will kick you out!" They played the rest of their game in silence.

Faolin managed to force a stalemate with Lord Big-Snickers, where neither could move without putting themselves into check. They decided to call it a draw. Afterward, they shook hands and agreed to play again sometime. 

**[Page Break]**

He found Ciara in the Ravenclaw common room, just finishing _The Hobbit._

"Hey." He said as he entered the common room. "You look upset."

"It's nothing." It was something and Faolin knew it, and she probably knew that he knew it. Her cheeks glistened with lines of moisture running down from her eyes.

"Ciara, have you been _crying_?" Faolin dumped his stuff into his dorm and rushed to sit on the couch next to her. "You can tell me what is wrong."

"I'm fine," she insisted again. Faolin put his hand on her wrist and locked eyes with her. In Faolin's limited experience, silent eye contact yielded much more information than pushing questions.

After a few minutes, Ciara broke eye contact and started talking again."It's just… McGonagall said that your house is supposed to be your family away from home, but when I came back, everyone started making fun of me for Defense Against the Dark Arts class. They said I couldn't cast a spell to save my skull and they asked if I was a squib…" She broke off, now really crying.

Faolin didn't know what a _squib_ was, but right now he really didn't need to; it was obviously bad. He felt anger rising in his chest, making him feel like punching something. He was angry at his housemates for being so cruel and adding insult to the literal injury of Ciara's DADA class. Angry at himself, for playing a leisurely game of chess while it had been happening, when he easily could have exerted the goodwill he had gained that morning to protect her.

And maybe even angry at Evelyn Ramirez for putting Ciara in that lesson, even though he knew it was irrational.

And more than anything, Faolin wanted to cover Ciara in bubble wrap so no one could hurt her again. Faolin had never had to play an elder role, but he thought maybe this was what it would be like to be an older brother.

"You kept getting distracted by your legilimency, didn't you?" Faolin asked. "In Defense Against the Dark Arts. Was that why you couldn't cast _Protego_?"

Ciara didn't answer but nodded her head.

"Tell you what," Faolin offered. "We'll find time to practice alone, away from distracting non-occlumens." Faolin tried to smile at her, but it came out as a grimace. Despite that, she smiled back at him.

"Who started the bullying?" Faolin asked.

"Our prefect," Ciara replied. "Lewis Farwood."

"I'll give him a talk," Faolin promised.

"You don't have to." Ciara tried to placate him.

"But I want to," Faolin assured her.

Ciara put down her book, which she was done with anyway, and turned to face him. "What have you been up to?"

"Just lost a game of chess." He sighed. "I haven't lost a game of chess since I was nine. _Nine_, Ciara, and I lost my first game at Hogwarts."

"It's not that big of a deal." Ciara fiddled with her vibrant red hair. "Is it?"

"I suppose not, but I still want to be good. I want to be the best." Faolin caught the puzzled face Ciara shot him. "Doesn't everyone?"

"No, most people only want to be competent, and a good deal of people don't care one way or the other. Slytherins are usually pretty competitive." She sat up and looked at him. "What do you want to be the best at? Chess?"

"Magic." Faolin wiped off his wand with a wet cloth, taking off the grime and sweat that it had accumulated from his hand in the last few days. He admired the fine handiwork of the instrument, the gentle curve of the engraving running up the shaft. "I want to be the best wizard in the world, Ciara, the best since Dumbledore."

Ciara stared at him. "You've only known magic exists for a month."

"I'm not far behind any of the other first years. Magic is an intellectual art, so Ravenclaws usually go farthest, and I'm gifted enough to do it. I learned three spells with no teacher before the start of term, I answered the riddle at the knocker this morning. Don't tell me I can't do it, I know I can!" Faolin's frustration rebounded on her. He immediately felt like a dryshite.

Ciara recoiled a little at his outburst. "I'm not saying you aren't gifted, Faolin, I'm just saying…" She paused "It seems like a big leap to make so early."

"I shoot for the moon, Ciara. Even if I miss it, I'll land among the stars." Faolin looked at the time. "We should probably head to supper if we don't want to be late."

As he walked towards the door, Ciara called after him: "Don't take it too far. It hasn't ended well for anyone."

Faolin closed the door and ran to the Great Hall, arriving in a heightened amount of muttering that seemed to be centered around a goblet in front of the headmistress's podium that had blue flames erupting out of the top. There was a glowing white circle drawn around the goblet.

Before dinner started, they got a speech from Headmistress McGonagall.

"Your attention please!" The headmistress looked as stately as ever, with her impervious gaze and spotless robes. "I interrupt your meal to inform you that Hogwarts will be hosting the 2020 Tri-Wizard Tournament. The Goblet of Fire has been set behind an age line, as last time, but will also be under constant guard. There will only be _three_ contestants. The Champions have already been chosen from other schools and will be arriving In a few day's time. They are guests at our school and they should be treated as such." She glared down at all of them.

"Those who wish to enter the tournament should put their name in the Goblet of Fire in the next three days and must be 16 years or older, due to the life-threatening nature of the tournament. There will be _no exceptions_ to this rule." McGonagall glared at them a little harder. "That will be all. Please enjoy your meal."

Muttering broke out immediately in the Great Hall. Faolin turned to Ciara.

"What do yo- Wait, didn't you finish that book already?" Sure enough, Ciara was once again leafing through the first pages of _The Hobbit._

"It's the only novel I have, and reading is my excuse for ignoring everyone."

Faolin shook his head. "Whatever. What I was going to ask you was what do you think Professor McGonagall was so angry about?"

Ciara smiled. "I keep forgetting you don't know these things. Last time Hogwarts hosted the Tournament, a fourth-year named Harry Potter got into the tournament as the fourth champion. People were a bit puzzled by that."

Faolin had heard that name before. "You mean the same Harry Potter who did all the other things like kill Lord Voldemort and close the Chamber of Secrets?"

"And protected the Sorcerer's Stone, and cleared Sirius Black's name, and reunited the Deathly Hallows? Yep, same guy." Ciara turned the page of her book.

"Wow," Faolin said. "What _didn't _this guy do?" Ciara only shrugged.

The rest of the meal was spent with gossip and whispers of who should enter their names in the Goblet of Fire.

"Would you enter your name, if you were old enough?" Ciara asked him as they followed their house back to Ravenclaw Tower.

"Of course." Faolin turned to her, wiping his fingers on a napkin. "Wouldn't you?"

Ciara shook her head. "I'm not scared of the challenges so much as the attention I would get." A third-year answered the riddle, allowing them into the common room.

"You miss every shot you don't take."

"But sometimes you have to choose your battles. If you bite off more than you can chew, you'll swallow nothing."

Ciara started to head to her dorm, only to be called out by a sixth year. One that Faolin recognized.

"Hey squib!"

Lewis Farwood edged his way towards Ciara. "What about the interview? Oh right, I forgot, you're mute!"

Ciara squeaked and dropped her book. She looked like she wanted to teleport herself out of Ravenclaw Tower, maybe even Hogwarts itself. Faolin wondered for a moment if wizards could teleport.

"Hey you sap, uncool. Don't you think it's your job to make newcomers feel welcome?" Faolin stared him down. Ciara smiled gratefully at him before disappearing into her dorm. "And doesn't Ravenclaw supposedly welcome oddity into their ranks? What gives?"

"I don't... now… who do you-" Lewis started, but Faolin was really going.

"And doesn't our prefect have better things to do than pick on first-years anyway? Seriously, leave off, you gobshite."

He turned to the rest of the house. "And what about you lot of dopes? Did you do anything to stop him during free period today? Or did you turn a blind eye, or even join his pathetic games?" He threw up his hands. "Alright, that's what I wanted to say." _Of _course _I would have to step up and do what no one else would. Has it ever been any different?_

Faolin headed up to his dormitory before Lewis could respond. He read his DADA textbook for a while, memorizing the various philosophies behind magical self-defense. Still thinking about the argument he had had with Ciara in the common room. Finally, sleep took him into its ever-soft embrace, snuffing out his worries one by one.

And then, even as he faded into the void, a musing caught on his multifaceted mind: _What did Boris call that pastry again?_ He would have to ask him tomorrow.

_I'm going to make it, Ciara,_ was Faolin's last conscious thought. _When I'm the greatest wizard in the world, then you'll see._

**Author's Note.**

**Oh, Things are just starting to spice up! Who will enter their name into the Goblet? Who will it choose? Will Faolin be able to restrain his thirst for power? It's going to only get more exciting from here!**

**This chapter took longer to write because I have learned that blowing off all my school work to write is not a viable long-term plan. But I still think I got it out fast enough, if I can keep this schedule up, I'll be doing alright.**

**The pastry Boris mentioned is Chebureki, a traditional Russian food. Commonly sold on hot dog style carts during winter, they are very filling and cost very little.**

**Thank you to my friend, who I will hereby refer to as He-Who-Doesn't-Want-To-Be-Named since he wishes to remain anonymous. He provides most of Boris' better moments, along with all the Russian dialogue and culture facts. He has already proved himself an invaluable and uplifting proof-reader.**

**And again, thank you for reading, if you're even reading the AN. I don't know, but thanks anyway.**

**Stay on top lads. -ZS**


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